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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480524">Top of the World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiclord/pseuds/chemiclord'>chemiclord</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:16:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiclord/pseuds/chemiclord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a just world, this wouldn't be Sumire's moment.  But it was, and she needed to seize it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amamiya Ren &amp; Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You Only Get One Shot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Childhood dreams, at their core, are really a rather silly thing. A goal set by a barely cognizant mind, blissfully unaware of the roadblocks and limitations that would be an insurmountable obstacle. Even <em>if </em>the child grew up perfectly, did everything to the absolute best they could, there was a very good chance that they'd <em>never </em>meet the expectations of those dreams through no fault of their own. And worse, childhood dreams could make what should have been something to be tremendously proud of feel like a disappointment.</p><p>For example, Sumire had <em>already </em>exceeded what everyone had ever expected of her. Just <em>qualifying </em>for the national team for the Toyko Olympics at all had stunned everyone but those closest to her. Making the final four for the team had turned the heads of an entire nation. Having a critical role in the country's silver medal finish, the highest for the woman's team in its <em>history</em> and first medal since <em>1964</em>, had earned her a rush of TV spots and interviews.</p><p>Then when a surprise scratch had thrust Sumire into the all-around competition heads up with the finest gymnasts in the world, she caught the attention of an <em>entire world </em> after another silver medal finish, the first time a Japanese woman had <em>ever </em>made the all-around podium.</p><p>Within forty-eight hours, what the world could ever be allowed to know of her story had become public knowledge, and she had become a media darling. No fewer than seventeen TV and radio outlets from twelve countries tried to interview her. She was the talk of Toyko, of Japan, of the entire damn <em>Earth</em>. Gymnastics pundits all around the globe nodded sagely and spoke in wizened tones of “peaking at the perfect time.”</p><p>And yet... as elated as Sumire was, she couldn't fight back slight disappointment.</p><p>Because she and Kasumi had a childhood dream of being at the top of the world, and it simply wasn't meant to be due a gymnastics buzzsaw called Alexa Miles.</p><p>“I don't even think Kasumi projecting out to her absolute best could have matched her,” Sumire had said to her senpai almost a year ago during a break in her training. “Miles is a freak of human genetics. A physical impossibility. She will perform experimental, unprecedented techniques in open competition simply because her only competition is <em>herself</em> at this point. If she didn't constantly push the envelope of what was possible... she'd get <em>bored</em>. Any competition she is in is really for second place.”</p><p>Miles had run roughshod over the field in the prior two Olympics, and had done the same here in Tokyo. She had been the diamond of the U.S. Team during the team event, one of <em>three </em> American women who could have been the captain of any other team in the world. In the individual all-around, Miles had such a massive lead by the final rotation that she would have had to actively tried to <em>not </em>win the gold medal.</p><p>Despite that dominance, Sumire couldn't even muster the barest hint of jealousy, simply because Alexa was legitimately one of the nicest girls she had ever met. Alexa had been the first to rush to hug Sumire, even before any of Sumire's coaches, after the uneven bars routine that had secured the silver medal in the all-around, legitimately joyful with a voice racing at a hundred words a minute about how awesome Sumire's performance had been.</p><p>“Fast friends,” Alexa had said when she was asked about Sumire during interviews over the last few days, most recently last night on NBC. Sumire had been astounded that the American woman had even <em>remembered </em>their first meeting when Sumire was first getting a taste of international competition during an exhibition event in Seoul last year. Yet there the girl was, going into elaborate detail about how she had found so much in common with Sumire, coming from family tragedy herself.</p><p>“Forget all this 'peaking at the right moment' nonsense,” Alexa had almost snarled to a worldwide audience. “It <em>should </em>be, 'Don't underestimate the nerves of a person being chased by ghosts.' When you've already seen rock bottom, what the hell is pressure? Oh no! We might not win! Folks, we win just by waking up to another morning. Any more we get is a bonus.”</p><p>How the hell could Sumire manage even a mustard seed's worth of contempt after something like that? If anything, Sumire felt awful for even <em>considering </em> the idea of <em>maybe</em> being jealous sometime down the road.</p><p>It also helped that watching Alexa perform was inspiring in its own right. Any given event any given day meant there was a <em>very </em> good chance you were going to see her attempt something no one dared try in open competition. Hell, a lot of girls wouldn't dare try what Alexa did in <em>competition</em> in <em>practice</em>.</p><p>If you loved more than the raw competition of gymnastics, you <em>loved </em>seeing Alexa show up, even if it meant your chances of winning went into the toilet and mercilessly double flushed down. Her performances meant you were seeing a synergy of power and grace that the world had never seen before, and possibly never see again.</p><p>Which was why, on the final day of Sumire's participation in the Toyko Olympics, despite the irrational feeling of disappointment gnawing at her, Sumire was overjoyed watching the women's floor exercise, even while knowing there was no chance in hell that she was going to win.</p><p>Yes, Sumire had surprised the sparse audience four days ago by posting the highest qualifying score, which was why she was going last in the final. But she had considered the qualifiers to <em>be </em> her Olympics, and so had went all out while others (like Alexa) had saved their best stuff for now. While <em>now </em> the pundits were predicting Sumire would medal, possibly another silver, no one <em>dared </em>suggest that a gold medal was in her future.</p><p>Because the floor exercise was Alexa's favorite event, and where she had won first place in <em>every </em> competition she was in for the last <em>nine years</em>.</p><p>It simply wasn't in the cards for Sumire to reach her and her sister's childhood dream, and she needed to be okay with that.</p><p>Alexa's performance was as awe-inspiring as the world had come to expect; almost a hurricane of gymnastics, each technique flowing into the other so seamlessly that even with trained eyes like Sumire's you didn't even have time to appreciate what she had just <em>done </em> before you were struck dumb by what she was <em>doing</em>.</p><p>On the third pass, Alexa stepped out of bounds with her left foot. But what would normally have been a potential competition changing mistake was not much to worry about. Alexa <em>rarely </em> ran what would be considered “artistically flawless” routines; a consequence of routinely pushing the limits of what was possible. The difficulty ratings for her various elements were so much higher than her competitors that she <em>could </em> take a tenth deduction or two or three and still be <em>well </em>ahead of anyone else's score.</p><p>But on the fourth and final tumbling line, something happened that made Sumire's eyes widen for two reasons. First, and most obviously, Alexa attempted what <em>looked</em> like a triple twist, triple tucked flip finish, an element so profoundly insane that probably a good half of Olympic-level <em>men </em> wouldn't even try it. But that Alexa actually <em>pulled it off </em> without landing flat on her backside was the <em>least </em>astonishing part.</p><p>What <em>really </em> got Sumire's attention was that the American had stepped <em>well </em>out of bounds. It was an error so completely unlike Alexa that Sumire initially thought she had imagined it. Then when she was able to process that it had in fact happened, her mind started racing for any possible explanation. It was such an unprecedented move that was probably more than worth the penalty. Alexa had effectively performed two full meets in the last week; near the end, it's not surprising she'd be a little tired and make a misstep.</p><p>Sumire's coach noticed it too, and the look that they shared spoke volumes without a word even needing to be said. Depending on what the judges thought, they were looking at potentially a half point worth of penalties when counting the earlier out of bounds step.</p><p>But Sumire shook her head, squashing what her coach was trying to silently suggest. Even a half point deduction probably would still be a score hopelessly out of reach. The difficulty scores on that routine would have effectively maxed out any possible total. A half point would still easily put Alexa well into first place.</p><p>Sumire jumped up to meet the American as the older girl almost glided down the steps into the dugout with a solemn expression. The pair hugged, and Alexa sighed. “I left a lot on the floor there.”</p><p>“You did something impossible,” Sumire countered. “I wouldn't worry yourself.”</p><p>“Still could have done better.”</p><p>“Even you can always do better. If you couldn't, what would be the point in doing it in the first place?”</p><p>Alexa gently nudged Sumire away with a wan smile. “You're up, and I gotta get to the booth. Go get it, girl.”</p><p>To be honest, Sumire was fighting her heart rate, a losing battle as she stepped out of the dugout and onto the ready circle. She did a few light stretches to keep herself loose while waiting for Alexa's score, after which she'd be allowed to step onto the floor itself.</p><p>Her eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if the rest of her friends had managed to get the same seats. She rather hoped so, because with the packed stadium, it would be impossible to find them otherwise.</p><p>“<em>Sumire!</em>” she mercifully heard over the din, voices she recognized, because if she hadn't she'd have never found them in time. Front row, directly behind the dugout overlooking the floor.</p><p>But there they were; the whole lot of them. Ann; still dressed in the white, five-ring spangled blouse and skirt outfit signifying her as an “official hostess” for the Games, no doubt rushing from an official event just to be here on time. The girl had probably been working harder than <em>anyone </em> among the gang during these Olympics, including <em> Sumire </em>.</p><p>Next to her was Ryuji, and Sumire was relieved that he had showed up. He hadn't been certain that he could manage it, more than a little bitter about how close he had come to qualifying for the Olympics <em> himself </em> in the 1600 meters. Sumire was ashamed to admit that she didn't remember just how much he had missed the cut by, just that it had been <em> very </em>close.</p><p>He had been worried the wound had been a little too raw, and had even missed the all-around event because he didn't want to be a wet blanket for the rest of the group. Apparently watching Sumire medal with the Japanese team had been <em> very </em>hard for him to take, and he had been “grumpy” the whole time, “ruining the mood.”</p><p>But wet blanket or not, she was glad he made it.</p><p>Then there was Makoto, looking about as excited as the former class rep could manage. Sumire knew she <em> meant </em>to look thrilled, and she no doubt was. But outward displays of emotion had never really been her strength, and Sumire understood that. Especially since she was no doubt the primary reason Ryuji was in attendance. Allegedly, she had browbeat the younger man for ten minutes straight after his earlier absence, and that had shamed him into swallowing his pride if for one day.</p><p>Then there was Haru. She timidly waved in encouragement, a small yet proud smile across her cheeks. The first night, during the team competition, the gang had been in one of the luxury suites designated for the Olympic sponsors. By the individual all-around, they had moved to the center seats in the lower bowl so that Sumire could actually see them in attendance, and there was no doubt that Haru was responsible for this latest move, as those seats on such short notice could <em> not </em>have been cheap.</p><p>From there was Yusuke, another member of the gang that had been involved in these Olympic games in his own way. Two of his murals adorned the event venues; one that he had designed along the outer ring of the gymnastics venue, and one that he had spent two years <em> painting by hand </em> that was grandly displayed on the rim of the upper bowl of the main Olympic Stadium.</p><p>Next to him was Futaba, jumping up and down in her seat, waving her arms animatedly, and wearing a much too large black shirt with “Team Sumire” written with what looked like a paint marker by hand. That managed to make her giggle in amusement, a split second reprieve from the building tension, and one that she appreciated.</p><p>Then finally... the man she still called “senpai,” and only half jokingly, <em> also </em>wearing a “Team Sumire” t-shirt over his long-sleeved button down, a look so absurd that it gave her another giggle. She wondered if even the rest of the gang knew the role he was playing in these Olympic Games, working under Toranosuke Yoshida on the Olympic Committee as one of his interns. They almost assuredly didn't; Ren was really, really good at keeping those sort of things quiet rather than draw attention to himself.</p><p>Sumire only knew by accident, after all. He had volunteered to be one of the organizers for the men's individual all-around competition, but agreed to help with the women's all-around as well after one of the coordinators got abruptly ill. At the same time, Sumire became almost literally a last minute addition to the competition, and by the time he had known about the change, he couldn't back out. He had ignored her aghast look as he instructed the ladies about where to go, and only finally copped to his role in the entire event after the orientation, when she had threatened to tell the rest of the gang where he was in the morning.</p><p>Had either of those things not happened, she'd be just as in the dark.</p><p>She argued with him to this day about that tendency of his, to keep his accomplishments on the down-low, so to speak. He had been able to change the world from the shadows. Who knows what he could do if he was willing to put himself forward?</p><p>Then finally, last but not least, a pair of yellow eyes glimmered from the opening of the leather bag dangling from Ren's left shoulder. Sumire <em> still </em> couldn't understand how <em> no one other than their gang </em>could see that Ren brought Morgana everywhere he did, even in situations where he by all rights would be plainly seen and discovered. It was like some sort of invisibility field hovered over Morgana, one that couldn't be pinned on mere cognition bias.</p><p>A cheer grabbed her attention, her eyes flashing to the scoreboard hanging from the center of the dome. Alexa's score had come in.</p><p>15.533.  Position – 1</p><p>The position was not the slightest bit surprising. The score was, and it wasn't because the score was <em> bad </em> . In fact, it was <em> exceptional </em> . Even with two errors, one of them normally critical, Alexa had finished with a score that would have been the second best in competition <em> for the entire year </em>if you didn't count all of her other finishes.</p><p>It was insane.</p><p>But it was also a reason for her blood pressure to skyrocket. Alexa had left the door open. If but a crack, it was open.</p><p>And that realization almost froze her. Because she actually <em> could </em> do it.</p><p>Gymnastics scores nowadays were more of an aggregate than the arbitrary 10-point scale of days gone by. Gymnasts now could figure out a rough estimate of their potential maximum score with the help of some mildly complicated math. And for Sumire, the math worked out.</p><p>The base routine that she and her coach had put together leading up to the Olympics maxed out at a 15.700. And there was one particular modification she could do that would bump that maximum to a 15.800, that she was now assuredly going to do. It would take a nearly flawless routine... but it was <em> possible </em>.</p><p>“Now competing, Yoshizawa Sumire from Japan.”</p><p>The sound that followed the PA announcement was something akin to a grenade going off in front of a loudspeaker mic. The overwhelmingly Japanese crowd had come out in force for the home country competitor, and they made their presence felt with such volume that it took almost two minutes for the PA announcer to get them to settle down.</p><p>Sumire's coach described the modern floor exercise as “ninety seconds of carefully choreographed chaos,” and it was <em> far </em> more accurate than most viewers would probably ever understand. Gymnasts literally challenged the laws of physics to the limits that a human body could handle. The centrifugal force in some of the more complicated tumbles generated equivalent g-forces to those found in <em> fighter jets </em> . Landing techniques pushed the laws of friction to the point they started to break down in ways similar to the physics of hydroplaning <em> automobiles </em>.</p><p>And there were <em> still </em>some uneducated rubes out there who declared gymnasts weren't really athletes.</p><p>Sumire offered those imbeciles one internal scoff as she crossed the bounds line and took her position in the southeast corner. She nodded to the timekeeper just off the raised floor that she was ready, and waited for her music to start. When it did, the chaos began.</p><p>Another thing that the typical viewer might not realize was how much of the usual floor routine was already dictated by the rules. In order to get a full possible score you needed specific required elements, like a 180 split or a double flip, some of which had to be chained by other required elements. Most performers got the bulk of them out of the way in their first two tumbling lines and transitions so that the most impactful part of the performance could happen at the end where they could really go all out. The goal was merely not to screw those up so that you had something worth going all out <em> for </em>.</p><p>The overwhelming majority of the crowd assuredly did not know that, because they burst in excitement at the end of her first two tumbling lines, both of them rather “simple,” in the context of Olympic athletes.</p><p>She allowed herself a breath to calm herself as she turned to face her third tumbling pass. The nerves had vanished with each surge of adrenaline from the cheering crowd, and now she had to make sure she didn't <em> over </em>-perform, a burst of energy causing her to overshoot a jump or make her forget a piece of her routine.</p><p>Because this was where she was winning gold, or winning nothing. This was the moment, as Alexa would say, to “go get it.”</p><p>Every athlete has a moment were they get in the zone; where time seems to slow down and nothing exists other than themselves, hyperfocused on the task directly in front of them. She needed that phenomenon more than ever.</p><p>Whereas Alexa was built compact, kinda like a tumbling ball that could twirl and flip almost forever like she was hanging in the air, Sumire was longer and leaner, and her optional elements were designed to highlight her frame. After sprinting to full speed, she dipped down, her mind hitting each element in time with her body.</p><p>Front walkover. Back handspring. back handspring. Keep legs as extended as possible. Back double tucked flip. Land. Spot the next landing point. Jump. Keep arms and legs together. Triple twist flip. Land. Flourish. Arms out, back arched, head forward. Scissor kick and twist to face north.</p><p>She barely heard the eruption of cheers as she spun and rolled through the last pair of essential dance components into the northwest corner, timing her arrival with the beat of the song so that her final tumble line would time with the end of the music.</p><p>Her final tumble line... with the modification that she knew she had to make...</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kasumi <em> never </em>made mistakes. Her uncanny muscle memory and understanding of her own body meant that the older twin was practically impeccable with just a handful of repetitions.</p><p>Which was why it made absolutely no sense what Sumire was looking at, a Kasumi with a nasty looking gash across her left temple, their coach frustratingly trying to stop the bleeding while Sumire handed her washcloth after washcloth.</p><p>“What was that even supposed to <em> be </em>, Kasumi?” Sumire had asked in anger, furious that her sister had done something that was clearly so very reckless.</p><p>Kasumi offered a sheepish, guilty smile. “I've noticed for a while that you've just been copying what I do in training.”</p><p>“You're not the only one,” their coach interrupted with a grumble, taking another wet washcloth from Sumire's hands.</p><p>“So... I thought I'd try to do something that was best for you,” she admitted with a shrug. “Something that you could do better than me. But, well... I couldn't pull it off.”</p><p>Sumire could barely form words in her anger. “But... how... what makes you think <em> I </em> could do it if <em> you </em>can't?”</p><p>Kasumi sighed. “You've always had more leg strength than me, Sumi. You could do that. If you just believed you could.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She needed all the speed she could muster, with little time to do so, because she needed as much real estate as she could get. Handspring. Handspring. Handspring. Push with everything she had left in her arms. Pop up into a single twist layout. Spy the landing spot, because it was going to be the last time she'd be able to.</p><p>Now or never.</p><p>The last element was going to be mostly blind because of the complex motion she was about to execute. She wouldn't see her landing spot until maybe a tenth of a second before her feet hit. On top of that, she needed to maintain the layout position, which meant pretty much all of the force she'd be able to generate would be in her calves; kinda like a One-Inch Punch using her feet.</p><p>Land. Explode with everything she had left into a two and a half twist double layout.</p><p>The instant she left her feet, she knew she had overshot where she wanted to land. It wasn't necessarily a failure; the choreography had been done to allow herself to overshoot a little bit. But it was going to be close.</p><p>Touch down. She can <em> feel </em>the boundary line at her heels. Step back to flourish, fighting against momentum itself with everything she could muster so that her left foot doesn't drop fully out of bounds. Then twirl to cover up the evidence, both feet firmly in bounds, with a final flourish.</p><p>And let the world catch up to her again.</p><p>She was immediately aware of the wall of sound that struck her like a train. The home crowd was in full uproar. If they had their way, Sumire would have won every gold medal in the whole damn Olympics.</p><p>She waved to the attendees, unable to stop three tears from rolling down her cheeks. She fled off the floor as fast as she could, trying not to break down in public, retreating as fast as cordiality would allow back to the dugout.</p><p>Alexa damn near tackled her at the top of the steps, aggressively hugging the taller Sumire. “<em> That's how you go get it, girl! </em>” the American shrieked happily, shaking Sumire in her excitement. She then settled herself quickly, stepping on her tiptoes to whisper in Sumire's ear, “I think you got me.”</p><p>Sumire shook her head. While that might have been mathematically possible, it was not at all likely. Sumire didn't like the final landing. If the judges saw through it, and knocked off a tenth of a point for effectively being out of bounds, then there was no way she'd be able to score high enough.</p><p>Alexa skipped back, and pointed aggressively to her left. “Get to the booth. I wanna see your score!”</p><p>Sumire wasn't able to get there right away however, as one person delayed her path.</p><p>Her father. Who had absorbed his daughter's performance largely in silence these entire Olympics. He had certainly <em> celebrated </em>Sumire's success, but always after the fact, determined to keep his emotions from spilling out publicly.</p><p>But this time, he couldn't. He embraced his daughter with openly fresh tears. He wasn't exactly a gymnastics expert, but he knew what he was seeing. He also knew what that final tumble had been and its history. “I... I saw both my daughters today. Kasumi was with you.”</p><p>Sumire nodded into her father's shoulder. “Yeah. She was.”</p><p>“Miss Yoshizawa?” A venue staff person said nervously, not wanting to interrupt, but knowing he had to. The poor guy no doubt wished he could be anywhere else right now. “Could... could you follow me, please?”</p><p>Sumire broke away from her father, nodding while desperately trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes and off her cheeks. She could feel the cameras of the world following her to the Plexiglas lined booth where her coach was already waiting. She could hear the bellows of her friends somehow over all the din.</p><p>She must have makeup <em> everywhere </em>. She probably looked like a deformed clown at this point from all the tears that had fallen. Her coach hugged her confidently, every bit as upbeat as Sumire was down.</p><p>“You nailed it. That was nigh perfect.”</p><p>Sumire subtly shook her head. “I was long on my last element. I was <em> way </em>long.”</p><p>“But you didn't <em> look </em> like you were long, and <em> that's </em>what matters.”</p><p>In truth, Sumire knew that. She knew that she had done the absolute possible best she could. But she couldn't let herself believe that. Not right now. She needed to believe that there was something she could have done better when her score inevitably came up short.</p><p>Her eyes were transfixed on the scoreboard, waiting for the judges as a slow motion of her final tumble played across the display. She cringed at the landing and cover-up twirl, even as she could hear Alexa shouting excitedly, “Do you see that? Do. You. See. <em> That? </em>They better be calling that 'the Sumire' by tomorrow!”</p><p>Sumire allowed herself one tired laugh at Alexa's antics. It was cute how supportive the woman who by all rights should be a rival was being. But it would be all for naught when the world saw her score of...</p><p> </p><p>15.600</p><p> </p><p>Sumire blinked repeatedly, wiping her eyes, <em> certain </em>she was misreading the score. But the massive crescendo from the assembled fans told her the truth, as did the line right next to that score.</p><p> </p><p>Position – 1</p><p> </p><p>Her hands flew to her face as her coach nearly swallowed her up in a hug. All the energy that had been with her the entire day drained out of her in an instant, and she would have slumped out of the bench face down if her coach hadn't been so aggressively holding her. Sumire was lost to the world, crying tears of joy, triumph, grief, and regret all at once; a catharsis of raw emotion that she could no longer contain, bursting open years of wounds that she had thought had finally healed.</p><p>The childhood dream had been realized. She had made it to the top of the world. And Kasumi wasn't there to see it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Opportunity Comes Once in a Lifetime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It would be three <em> weeks </em> before life returned to something somewhat resembling normal. Sumire was abruptly reminded after all the whirlwind rounds on the interview and appearance circuit had finally ceased that she was a third year, and that she had a <em> lot </em>of options for her further education and further career.</p><p>One offer was tremendously better than all the others, and she knew it. But what she would need to give up was going to be <em> hard </em>.</p><p>She stopped at her destination, Leblanc Cafe and Curry, a surprisingly familiar place even despite the old crew slowly beginning to find their own paths in life.</p><p>Everyone still dropped in on occasion, but those occasions were growing increasingly infrequent, and even more rarely for everyone to show up. The Olympics had been a wonderful opportunity for all of them to come back together, but real life resumed nonetheless.</p><p>There would maybe only be three people she knew in there right now; with the evening making coffee less of a palatable beverage. But that was actually a good thing, because there was only one person she wanted to see right at that moment.</p><p>She pushed open the door, the little jingle of the bell comforting her, because honestly, Sumire was more nervous <em> right now </em> than she had been the entire time she was competing on the grandest stage in the world.</p><p>Futaba was the one who most reacted to Sumire's arrival, almost launching herself over a booth to hug Sumire happily. “There's our conquering hero! Glad to see you've finally come back to Earth!”</p><p>It was amusing to see Futaba now, with her unabashed willingness to engage in human contact when not even two years ago it was akin to pulling teeth just to get her to make eye contact with another person.</p><p>The major reason for Futaba blossoming into the young woman she was meant to be was the same reason Sumire was now carrying roughly a kilogram of precious metals in her purse. Ren no longer officially lived and/or worked in the cafe, but occasionally was known to make an appearance to help out Sojiro when he had the time to spare from his own university studies, and would occasionally crash in the attic apartment when the mood suited him.</p><p>Sumire could never really explain why, but Ren looked so very cute in Leblanc's brown apron; something about it made him look so very boyishly delicious in combination with the rolled up sleeves of his white button up shirt.</p><p>“Hey hey!” Futaba chirped, grabbing Sumire's attention. “I wanna see it! I didn't get the chance when you were here last time!”</p><p>Sumire grinned wryly. “It's just a gold plated version of the one you saw before,” she said. Technically that was true. The only practical difference between a silver and gold medal was that the latter was gold plated over the silver base.</p><p>Of course, there was <em> far </em>more than the technical differences, which ensnared Sumire's eyes the instant she removed it from her purse and held it in front of Futaba. The golden gleam as it spun in the quiet lighting of the cafe, the rising sun motif engraved on the front face, dangling from a red and white ribbon adorned with the Olympic rings. It was an enduring symbol that, if but for a moment, you had been the best in the world at what you did.</p><p>“That is <em> so </em>pretty! So cool!” Futaba cooed in delight.</p><p>“Yeah, it is. Isn't it?” Sumire agreed almost breathlessly.</p><p>Sojiro popped around the wall that led into the cramped kitchen area, his fedora already on his head and his jacket over his shoulder. “Hmm, seems like a good night to close up a little bit early,” he said knowingly. “Come on, Futaba. You'll get plenty of chance to ogle it Friday for the big celebration gathering. Let's give the lovebirds some space.”</p><p>Sumire didn't even <em> try </em> to protest the label anymore. While it wasn't something either of them were bragging about to the world or anything, their relationship wasn't exactly a closely guarded secret either. Ren didn't <em> entirely </em>like that, but as long as she didn't mention his name on live TV or anything, he tolerated it.</p><p>“Awwwww!” Futaba protested, but reluctantly complied as she preceded Sojiro's exit.</p><p>The older man helpfully flipped off the “open” light in the window, as well as the sign on the door. He then instructed, “Lock up as always, Ren, and be careful getting home, Yoshizawa. You've got a really recognizable face right now and I'd hate to see someone thinking of you as a good target. If you need to, you can always crash upstairs.”</p><p>With a quiet click, Sojiro closed the front door behind him, leaving Sumire and Ren to their own devices. He gestured to a stool across the counter, and said, “Have a seat. I just finished. I'm trying something a little new.”</p><p>Ren had become a <em> master </em> in all but name at coffee making at this point, able to do things even with decaffeinated blends that made Sumire's mouth water. This was a rich, nutty beverage with chocolate, vanilla, and a hint of peppermint and it was absolutely <em> divine </em>. She sighed happily after the hot liquid rolled across her tongue and down her throat.</p><p>“About time you stopped hiding that thing,” Ren said as Sumire was between sips.</p><p>Sumire played dumb. “Hmm?”</p><p>He gestured to the gold medal, laying unattended to her left. “You'd wear it proudly enough during interviews, but then it was right back in your purse once the cameras were off. It bothers you in ways your other medals don't.”</p><p>Sumire put down the mug, her eyes transfixed on the gold medal like she could change it into something else with sheer force of will. “I... I tried to leave it at Kasumi's grave. My father would have none of it. He actually refused to drive us back home until I took it back.”</p><p>Ren nodded. “Good.”</p><p>She shook her head. “You don't get it. I... can't bear to hold onto it because it shouldn't be mine. I have no right being here. This <em> should </em> have been Kasumi's place. This <em> should </em>have been her moment. We might have promised to be the best together, but we both knew who was supposed to have achieved it.”</p><p>Ren had bent over so that his face was level with hers. “Do you know why Alexa Miles tried that crazy technique at the end of her routine?”</p><p>Sumire shook her head. That didn't seem like something a competitor should ask another.</p><p>Ren smiled, “Well I got the chance to ask, so I did. She did it because she thought it was the only way she would be able to beat you.”</p><p>Sumire's eyes widened, then she glowered at him. “Liar.”</p><p>“It's true. The judges only penalized her a tenth of a point on her final pass.”</p><p>“And how... pray tell... do you know <em> that </em>?”</p><p>“Futaba. I was curious if Miles was right, so I asked Futaba to look at the recorded score cards. Discretely, of course. Miles figured after her first out-of-bounds penalty, that she'd need to hit something truly unique in order to score high enough to win.”</p><p>“Why would she even <em> think </em> that? I was a nobody when the Games started! My qualifying performance had been the highest score of my <em> career </em>.”</p><p>“Did you ever bother to ask Hiraguchi why she trained you, even after Kasumi's death?”</p><p>Sumire shook her head. “I always figured she pitied me. That she figured if I wasn't trying this, I'd probably just kill myself. For a time, she might have been right.”</p><p>Ren smiled again, this time warmly. “Do you honestly think someone of <em> her </em> prestige would waste time on someone out of pity? I don't care <em> how </em>much money your father was paying her, a woman of her pedigree isn't going to spend her valuable time on a 'nobody.'”</p><p>Sumire knew this, of course, but had a hard time <em> internalizing </em>it. It was a passive sort of praise that she didn't deserve.</p><p>“I asked. And she said because while you and your sister were genetically identical, your potential was <em> very </em> different. Yes, Kasumi was the better <em> student </em> of the art. She learned and retained things faster. She learned fundamentals flawlessly. And that's <em> great </em> . That's good for being an academy star, getting awards in the early years, winning some regional competitions, maybe even good enough to be an Olympic alternate. All these things are <em> really good </em>, mind you.”</p><p>Sumire almost couldn't bear to hear this heresy. The idea of Kasumi having <em> limits </em> was <em> insulting </em>.</p><p>“But you? <em> You </em> were the more impressive physical performer. You were faster. You were stronger. You were more agile. You had trouble with the fundamentals because the fundamentals were beneath you even at a young age. You struggled with Kasumi's routines because it was like trying to put a coat on that was a size too small. Your star rose so rapidly because you finally started being <em> you </em>. Because while Hiraguchi saw a solid national gymnast in Kasumi, in you... she saw the potential to be a world champion. And she was right.”</p><p>Sumire dropped her head. She couldn't let herself believe any of that.</p><p>Ren dropped his head to the table, peeking up at her, refusing to let her hide in even <em> that </em>small way. “Oh, did you know that the judges actually penalized you after all on your last tumble? Yeah, turns out they didn't buy your last little twirl entirely. But it didn't matter, because they put the difficulty score of your last pass at the highest possible level. Only one other woman has a technique in that category.”</p><p>Sumire sighed. “You're lying.”</p><p>“You know I'm not. At least, I hope you do. 'The Sumire' <em> is </em>an officially designated floor technique now. The FIG announced that last week.”</p><p>He finally pulled away, straightening up. “I'm not trying to get you to cheer up or anything. I know this is hard for you. I know why it doesn't feel right. But your father was right as well. <em> You </em> earned this, Sumire. <em> You </em> got this far. This <em> is </em>your moment... and you're the only one who could have done it.”</p><p>Ren then cupped her chin, and lifted her head, “Just... I've already had one <em> really </em>bad experience with a gold medalist. I hope you handle the prestige a little better.”</p><p>Sumire had been told most of the details that started the Phantom Thieves, so she got the reference easily enough, and decided it was probably for the best to follow him into a lighter mood. “Oh, I don't know,” she said with a purr, “Maybe I <em> like </em>the idea of having my own grand palace. Making you dress up in a tight, barely there Speedo and serving my every desire.”</p><p>He waved his free index finger. “Don't you threaten me with a good time.”</p><p>That finally earned Sumire her first genuine laugh in weeks. “What would I do without you?”</p><p>“You might have to find out one day,” Ren reminded, taking Sumire's mug to refill it. “You've literally got an entire world open to you. I trust you've considered your options in the brief amount of time you've had to yourself.”</p><p>That had been the <em> other </em> weight on her mind. While neither Ren <em> or </em> Sumire even tried to pretend that what they had was destined to last forever, it also wasn't something that Sumire wanted to give up for <em> any </em>reason.</p><p>“I... have.”</p><p>Ren needled her as he set her mug back down in front of her. “Anything stand out?”</p><p>Sumire took a deep long breath, exhaling it out heavily. “Alexa is... retiring from competition. She wants me to join her in Los Angeles with her coaching staff. UCLA has already offered me a full scholarship in conjunction to the offer.”</p><p>“I can only assume that's good.”</p><p>“Even with recent scandals with their national program, the facilities and coaching in the United States, especially in women's gymnastics, are peerless. They're simply the best in the world by a considerable margin.”</p><p>“What does Coach Hiraguchi think?”</p><p>Sumire laughed bitterly, “She thinks I'm a damn fool because I haven't accepted yet.”</p><p>“Why haven't you?”</p><p>Sumire glared at him, annoyed that he was playing coy.</p><p>Ren put a hand over his heart. “For <em> me? </em> I'm <em> touched. </em>”</p><p>She finally barked angrily at him, “How can you be so playful about this? Do... you really think <em> that </em>little about what we have?”</p><p>That got the smile to disappear from Ren's face, especially when he saw the tears willing up in her eyes. “Oh, Sumi... I'm sorry...”</p><p>She sobbed, “How... how could anyone expect me to just... just... <em> discard </em> the man who literally saved my life? The one who pulled me back up when I was ready to... kill myself? I was ready to stop being... <em> me </em>. I wouldn't be here in any sense that you know me without you.”</p><p>She jumped to her feet, her arm sweeping around, then pointing to her bag with her silver medals and the gold medal on the counter. “I'd throw <em> all </em>this away before I did that, Ren! As much as I don't want to disappoint Alexa and everything she's trying to do for me, if I have to make a choice...”</p><p>Ren vaulted over the counter, holding her tenderly, pushing her head into her shoulder as she whimpered. “There's nothing I value more than what I have right here.”</p><p>The couple let silence rule for a long interim. Finally, Ren sighed heavily and said, “Well, I guess there's just nothing to do about it. I don't really have a choice at all, do I?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” She mumbled into his shirt.</p><p>“Oh, Yoshida had been telling me how good it would look for my career to study abroad, <em> all </em> the good policy makers and staff do, or so he tells me. UCLA <em> does </em>have a highly regarded Poli-Sci program, and they were quite impressed when Yoshida and two of his colleagues endorsed me. Hell, I've had the transfer approval waiting for my signature for the last week. I just... wasn't sure if I actually wanted to take it.”</p><p>Sumire pushed herself away, though not hard enough to free herself from his embrace, her eyes flaring accusingly. There was no way in hell this was a coincidence. “<em> You </em> ... you <em> knew </em>all along about Alexa's offer, didn't you?”</p><p>Ren hedged, trying to keep his voice innocent as his eyes whirled all about aggressively trying to avoid eye contact. “I didn't <em> know </em>... I'm just saying when you're the top intern for a member of the Olympic Committee, you... hear things. And, to be safe, you might think it would be prudent to make plans in accordance to what someone very dear to you might choose.”</p><p>Sumire allowed herself a bemused grin. “You... are <em> impossible </em> sometimes.” Then she asked, “So, you've finally decided to go into political science, huh? About time.”</p><p>Ren shrugged, and made eye contact again. “Well, it occurs to me that the only way I'm ever going to keep up with you is if I actually start trying to make something grand of myself as well. So, yeah, I'll do my time, I'll learn what I need to learn, and when we return to Japan, I'll... start working on my own campaign. Might not happen right away, obviously, but I'll get there. Because... you're right. It's time that I try to change the world again, this time in the light of day.”</p><p>Sumire happily threw her arms around his neck. “I guess I'm not the only one who needs to learn to embrace who I am, huh?”</p><p>“I guess not.” He pulled his left hand away to grab her mug and hand it to her, then grabbed his. “So... here's to Los Angeles, then?”</p><p>Sumire nodded, “Yes. To Los Angeles.”</p><p>A clink of mugs, a sip, then a kiss that made her tingle from her head to her toes. Maybe she wouldn't reach the promise of an all-around world champion or gold-medalist four years from now, like Alexa was so certain of.</p><p>But honestly... that didn't matter. Because right now, she was on top of the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's not often that I get to play around with my sportswriting background, so I rather enjoyed composing this.</p><p>Now back to the grindstone of my original work.  I needed the reprieve to find my muse again, but fanfiction ain't gonna pay the bills.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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